


His Umbrella

by Amelia_Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Gen, Holmes Brothers' Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Holmes/pseuds/Amelia_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Mycroft looked outside his car window, he noticed they were passing by a street familiar to him--- all too familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Umbrella

As Mycroft looked outside his car window, he noticed they were passing by a street familiar to him--- all too familiar.

Then it hit him as they passed down Speedy’s.

“Scratch that, let’s go to the cemetery first instead” he said to his driver.

“Yes sir” the driver replied as he turned the car to their new destination.

Mycroft looked at the umbrella he has been absently touching the entire time. He took a deep breath and sighed. He closed his eyes and remembered the memory attached to it.

Mycroft was never really a fan of umbrellas ever since. Despite how rainy it can be on their side of the globe, he’d rather walk in the rain, which he really loved when he was young.

“Mycroft if you don’t bring an umbrella I’ll tell mummy!” his seven year old brother, Sherlock warned.

“Whatever Sherlock” replied Mycroft who was about fifteen years old at that time and was out of the door to go to a friend’s place on his bike. While he was at his friend’s house, it rained like cats and dogs for a long time. After a while, Mycroft decided to call home.

“Holmes manor” said the woman on the line.  
“Mrs. Wallace? This is Mycroft. Please tell mummy I’d be staying over at my friend’s; it’s raining very hard over here and getting really late”  
“Oh, I see. But Mycroft wouldn’t you like Bernard to fetch you then?” Mrs. Wallace, their housekeeper, replied and was about to contact Bernard, the family driver.  
“No need Mrs. Wallace. I’d just sleep here overnight. And I’m very sure that Bernard needs to fetch daddy tonight from work very late” He replied trying to soothe Mrs. Wallace.

“Alright. You and Sherlock behave over there alright?”

“What? Sherlock?”

“Why yes. He is with you isn’t he? Both your bikes weren’t there and oddly enough, your umbrella as well. Sherlock forced you didn’t he?” Mrs. Wallace replied, with the last line in a teasing manner.

Mycroft went cold. The blinding lightning and the growling thunder outside made him feel worse.

“MRS. WALLACE HAVE A SEARCH PARTY FOR SHERLOCK! I’LL GO LOOK FOR HIM AS WELL!” he shouted on the phone and banged it on the receiver then ran out the door.

Rain poured down from the heavens and was getting stronger. As he was walking on what was supposed to be a small road surrounded by vast green fields, what he saw tonight seemed to be a very dark world fogged with water which is given a few seconds of light by the occasional lightning. Without the lightning, he was lucky enough if he could see a meter in front of him.

Despite a very low visibility, Mycroft pushed onward with his search on foot. His friend and their helpers followed him to help. Thank goodness they thought of bringing torches with them. It truly helped with their search.

“Sherlock! SHERLOCK!” Mycroft shouted. His voice was fighting with the rain and the sporadic thunder. As he was walking, he halted when he saw a bike --- his brother’s bike.

“Sherlock!” he yelled as he frantically searched the area around the bike for his brother. When he saw the unconscious Sherlock a meter or less away, Mycroft saw that his little brother was clutching something--- Mycroft’s umbrella. Mycroft slowly placed his baby brother in his arms and cradled him while searching for injuries.

“OVER HERE!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Fortunately he immediately got the attention of one of the helpers who ran to call out the others for assistance. The lightning made young Sherlock look very wan as Mycroft continued to look at him. At that moment, he didn’t know if what blurred his vision were tears or the rain.

After that night, Mycroft never dared to leave home without his umbrella; not just any umbrella but that which Sherlock clung to that night.

“Mycroft, why aren’t you using the new umbrella we bought you? Your old one truly needs to retire already” his mummy said.  
“No thank you, mummy. Mine’s still alright, really. Got it repaired even”  
“Mycroft Holmes we have been over this a million times! Look at the state of your umbrella!” his mother shouted.

The metal parts of the umbrella were rusty and the patches upon patches over the holes in the umbrella were definitely screaming in agreement with his mother. Yet, Mycroft just sighed and his mother just left, furious at him.

During Christmas, Mycroft saw a gift for him under their Christmas tree.

Mycroft,  
Promise me you would use this.  
Merry Christmas!  
Sherlock

Mycroft stared at the card then lightly touched it and smiled. The handwriting was definitely Sherlock’s who still sort of had a hard time writing. Sometimes he’d practice all day in his room. Mycroft made sure that he is there to help him as he could. Sherlock didn’t know the meaning of ‘giving up’. Such a bittersweet characteristic of him, Mycroft thought to himself. And his handwriting is really getting better, he added. Then he opened the gift: it was a brand new umbrella, which looked like his old one.

It seemed to have become a secret tradition of the two. As the years have gone by, despite whatever misunderstandings they may have, Sherlock never fails to give his brother a new umbrella every two years or so for Christmas. It really depends on the state of Mycroft’s current umbrella. The cards may say different messages but always the same umbrella.

The last one, before the tragedy, it’s card said:

As always dear brother  
SH

“Sir, we’re here” his driver said, breaking Mycroft’s trance with the past. He opened his eyes and realized he was now clutching very tightly to the umbrella.

As he walked towards the place, he used the umbrella as a cane, as if a heavy weight was upon him. When he reached his destination, he still can’t help but feel that everything around him, everything that has happened was surreal.

The black stone with the gold engraving SHERLOCK HOLMES pierced his heart now more than it ever has and it ever can as it continued to stare at him.

“…your own brother and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac. This is what you were trying to tell me isn’t it? ‘Watch his back because I’ve made a mistake.’ Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, and you have given him the perfect ammunition”  
John’s words kept on repeating in his mind.

The heading of one tabloid, “Suicide of fake genius” a few days after the fall kept him awake for so many nights.  
Tears were on the verge of falling. Then it started to rain. He opened his umbrella and instead of using it on him, he placed it on the tombstone

After a few seconds, he said  
“I’m sorry”

His voice was shaking and seemed that his entire body did the same. Then he left, never looking back and got into the car.

Back in the tombstone, a tall man with curly hair and wearing a dark blue body-length coat approached the tombstone then took hold of the umbrella and used it.

“In time my dear brother” he muttered and continued looking at the path the previous owner of the umbrella took.


End file.
